Carryover
by MedicalNonsense
Summary: Throwback sequel. Nine months after the events, Gilbert's child is about to be born; Matthew hasn't been coping so well and Ludwig's problems have taken on a decidedly more violent light.  Some secrets are meant to be kept for the good of everyone.


Hello and welcome to the first chapter of Carryover. **This is the sequel to my prior story Throwback** and while I would like to think it will make enough sense for you to read it without reading the first, I am somewhat skeptical if that is possible, however. You can attempt to do so if you so desire, but I still recommend reading the first. So, now that I've given you the author's intro I hope that you enjoy the first chapter :D As always, if you like the story I WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY.

**Also, as a note**, my life has become decidedly more busy since my last fic. I have moved into an apartment with a couple of roommates, go to college full-time and work really odd hours, that's theatre for you; therefore, I do not have the ability to manage my comments and messages as I once did. Even though I might not reply to them I read all of them, so no worries there J It should also go without saying that updates will be slow, sorry. For a heads up on when they will be posted you can find my twitter which there is a link to on my page or you can find me on tumblr Medicinal Dramatics. I'll get out of your hair now so you can read J

()()()()()

Shadow on the Sun  
><em>Once upon a time<br>__I was of the mind  
><em>_To lay your burden down  
><em>_Leave you where you stood  
><em>_You believed I could  
><em>_You'd seen it done before  
><em>_I could read your thoughts  
><em>_And tell you what you saw  
><em>_And never say a word  
><em>_But now all that is gone  
><em>_Over with and done  
><em>_Never to retur__n_

_And I can tell you why  
><em>_people die alone  
><em>_I can tell you I'm  
><em>_A shadow on the sun-_Audioslave

()()()

"Do you love me?" The fat whore asked her king as she sat on the porch of his small house within the boarders of his brother. She rocked back and forth in the wooden rocking-chair, cradling her stomach in eagerness to meet the creature growing within. If her silver-haired king hadn't agreed to be its father, she would have killed it long ago. She cursed herself for her own stupidity, she had to hand over her "business" to her second in command to live with this man in a foreign country. A country that hadn't even _been _its own country for any more than a few months (she would guess it had only been so for about nine or so). This man, his name was Gilbert Beilschmidt, he apparently wasn't human and was held in high esteem back in his home nation. The whore certainly didn't believe he was anything more than human, even if he was delusional enough to believe so, but it was more than obvious he was important.

Back where he was from, he lived in a large house filled with all sorts of odd knick-knacks from "his history". When a man of no older obvious age than twenty-three said that he was in fact over 800 years in age, you didn't believe them. Even if he had pictures of himself back in the 1800s… Anyway, he was important, meeting with the nation's leader at least twice a week. When asked why it would matter what a human wants when he is supposed to be a nation he responded with "My people serve me while boss leads me. I advise him and he tortures me accordingly." Speaking of his responses to questions, Catherine was still waiting the father of her child's answer.

Gilbert was standing at the very edge of the porch, staring out over the snow-covered natural scene of his backyard in January. A cold wind blew and Gilbert questioned why he was letting the whore sit outside. At this point, her health mattered little to him though, the baby was due any day now.

"Gilbert?" Catherine prodded and the Prussian looked over his shoulder at her, interest in his red eyes.

"Yes?"

"Did you hear what I asked?" At this question, Gilbert smiled; to her, it was a smile… If Matthew had been around, however… It would have been something out of his worst nightmares. It was a cold and unfeeling smile to those that knew him. Saying more "I hate you with all my being" than "I like you".

Gilbert turned and paced towards her slowly, replying to her question in the sugary-sweetest voice one could ever hear from him. It was gentle and potentially loving if one could understand his words, "_Ich hasse dich._" He started, stroking her cheek, "_Du bist eine fette Hure aber still schön…_" At her smile he paused, she understood the "pretty" part that was sure,"_Doch du bist nicht schön,_" he amended, then chuckled sweetly as he said the last of his answer,"_wirklich du bist hässlich zu mir._" She was blushing and hence obviously hadn't understood what he said, having taken his smile how she would and his tone. As Eddie Izzard once said it's seventy-percent how you look, twenty-percent how you sound and ten-percent what you say that determines people's reactions. Or in her case seventy-percent how you look and thirty-percent how you sound.

"I don't know what you said, but I think I liked it."

"Of course you do." Gilbert smiled, his hand going to the huge mound of her stomach.

"I think only you could ever make German sound romantic and not like a punch in the face." Catherine laughed and Gilbert's expression twitched downward ever so slightly. He longed for Matthew, but the man had refused to speak to him after his initial being thrown out. The two only spoke by proxy at meetings as well, Canada was one of East Prussia's biggest supporters after all. Rather than he himself attending meetings between the two though, Matthew just sent his boss and an extra service man. Under normal circumstances, Gilbert would call the man childish. Sadly enough, he understood why Matthew did this and it wasn't out of bitterness or some immature show that he didn't like him. So often the Canadian refused to show the side of him that cried and was weak around his boss and other nations' bosses. It was all too clear that the very sight of Gilbert would make him cry. No anger or hatred, only grief.

Regardless, Gilbert's tungsten ring hung about a silver chain underneath his clothes.

"Is there something wrong?" Catherine intruded on his thoughts as Gilbert felt the baby move within her.

"No." The albino stood up straight and stepped down from the porch to the snowy ground below. He felt a shift on his head and looked up to see Gilbird nuzzling deeper into his mop of hair. "Hey up dere." The nation greeted and reached up to pat the yellow fuzz ball on the head. Gilbert trod over the snow until he got to the pond across the way. There was a single white duck slipping around on the frozen water, he thought he had seen something moving over here. By its size it couldn't have even been fully grown yet. Sighing, he tested the thickness of the ice and his mind was brought back to the beginnings of March last year. The ducks that had gotten stuck in the ice and his brother had to pry them out before he had told him of his plan to propose to Matthew… And just everything went to hell after that. The innocent, white duck quacked at him pitifully, for some reason Gilbert had always had a soft spot for birds.

When the duck showed no signs of wanting to run away, Gilbert tentatively stepped forward and leaned down, scooping the bird up into his arms. Gilbird, showing a little bit of interest as they started back for the house, the duck wiggling a little in Gilbert's grasp, hopped down from his master's head to examine the fellow bird.

"You're special, ahren'd you?" Gilbert asked the duck, stroking its soft feathers. Upon stepping up onto the porch, Catherine gave him an odd look.

"Why the hell are you bringing that thing over here?" She sounded disgusted that he would bring just a wild bird near her. It wiggled out of Gilbert's grasp and flapped down to the porch going to stand by Catherine. "Get it away!" She stood up and stumbled a little bit, the duck followed and Gilbert chuckled, "What's so funny?"

"De birt ist deir's." He motioned to Catherine's stomach and she looked confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"You'fe nodicet Gilbirt, righd?" Narrowing her eyes, Catherine nodded and looked down at the duck with irritation, "De duck ist deir Gilbirt."

"Why do you say that?"

"Mosd of us haf zome zord of animal companion. I'fe hat Gilbirt zince I can remember. Grandet, he lookt differend vay back vhen, bud id has been him."

"You're still going on about being a… What was it now? A nation?"

"I ahm de nation of Easd Prussia. Formerly de German Democradic Republic." Not a day passed that Gilbert mentioned this (along with how utterly awesome this made him) and Catherine didn't consider calling the nuthouse to commit him. Only problem with that was, she wasn't really connected to him in any way other than the child inside her. Actually, there was another problem with that, he had lots of money and agreed to care for the babe; she would be a single mother for a child she never wanted in the first place if she sent him away.

"So… Are you saying that our child will be a nation as well?"

"No. Dey vill be only half. I only know two oder people who coult be consitert half." Gilbert responded, watching the duck follow Catherine back to her seat as she sat down.

"Oh really? And who are they? France? America?" The woman laughed to herself and Gilbert shook his head.

"No, bud if anyvon else hes fadert zuch chiltren, id voult be dem; France ist vhat Englant calls 'a man-whore'. Und Japan zays dat America ist de cheadingesd man he knows." He received little more than a blank stare from her and he smirked, "Yes, dere ahre oders like me. Englant und France happen to be goot freunds of mine. Bud, I'm talking aboud Greece und Egypt. Mosdly Greece dough."

"Okay, I'll humor you here… Why is he different?"

"He und Egypt are de only nations dat zay dey hef a _Mutter_ inschteat of a fader, or grantfader. Mosd cahn'd efen zay dey know a zingle parend."

"How is that possible?" Catherine stood and began to look him over. "No creature can be alive without parents. Isn't that one of the key definers of life? It and only it is able to create more life?"

_Maybe she's not stupid after all._ The albino internally mused before answering her inquiry, "Ve don'd know. My bruder und I hat a fader. A schiddy von, bud ve hat von. Italy hat a grantdat. Bud Greece und Egypt hat mutters. Noboty else cahn zay dat, nod efen female nations."

"You still didn't answer my other question."

"Because I cahn'd you'd hef to ahsk China to hef anyding resembling an anzwer. He's de oltesd of us."

"How old does that make him?" Catherine was obviously only asking so she could have something to laugh about. There were a great many days when she infuriated him to nearly breaking his façade of a well-controlled military man into his violent, rageful self. A side of him that hadn't had a proper amount of attention the last nine months. The side that was writhing just behind his eyes, lusting to rip something apart, to scream its agony out at the world, none of this was fair. For the sake of the baby, Catherine had not been hit once, in fact, he had doted on her in the first few months to earn her trust; the barrier between the outside world and the pained world inside him though was wearing thin.

"He celebradets his 4648th known birdday in October." Just as he was expecting, she threw her head back and laughed. His frame shook, wanting so bad to lash out at her, this whole thing was her fault. Okay, to be _perfectly_ honest, this was all _his_ fault, or rather, his younger mentality's fault. If his memories hadn't regressed him to his pre-world war one personality none of this would have ever happened. There was little that could have been done about it though, this was his present and how badly he wanted to remove her from it.

"That's a great one honey!" Her laughing continued, her hand resting on the bulge of her stomach, "But, back to our original line of conversation." With a cheerful smile, she indicated the bird preening its feathers next to her, "If I believed you, how can you be so sure that _this_ is the animal for the kid?"

"Id hasn'd lefd yed." Gilbert explained, Gilbird taking this chance to float down to sit on the duck's back. "Gilbirt likes id too."

"He's a bird, he doesn't know-"

"Gilbirt, go ged me a pen please. Oh, dat Viagra pen." Immediately, the small ball of yellow took off into the house, returning with a very strange pen (that also happened to be the Viagra pen Gilbert was asking for), dropping it into his hand. "A birt he mighd be Caderine, bud he's special." Offering the pen back to the bird, he ordered him to put it back where he found it as Catherine looked on in interest. Gilbird picked up the pen and flew away with it.

"Hm, okay, a smart bird, but that doesn't prove that this duck is like him." Gilbert turned his attention to the duck then.

"Hey." It looked up to him, seeming to know it was speaking to him. "You cahn unterschtant me und don'd know vhy, righd?" The duck continued to stare and it occurred to Gilbert that all other companions were centuries old and hence had already learned nodding and shaking their heads, "Nod for yes und shake your het for noh." Catherine rolled her eyes and Gilbird plopped back down on the back of the newer animal as it nodded. Gilbert looked to Catherine then, "Ahsk id anyding."

Her blue orbits darted down to the bird and she nearly glared holes in its skull while it stared back at her.

"Okay, stupid bird, _go_ _away_." She told it and the duck turned around to waddle off, "Maybe it isn't so dumb after all." Groaning, Gilbert gave chase to the creature, leaning down to scoop it back up into his arms.

"Id's schtaying vid us." Their conversation was over when he walked into the house and closed the door behind him, leaving Catherine out in the cold.

()()()

_Two feet of snow, oh joys upon joys_, Matthew mentally grumbled to himself, stumbling away from the window in his bedroom to his bathroom. Scratching at his minutely stubbled chin, he looked at himself in the mirror and marveled at what nine months had done to him. Dark circles called the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes home, stubble was a very common thing to see on him as he didn't care about shaving anymore. His muscles had become more pronounced from the growing absence of fat along with some less-than flattering scars on his hips, there was a new circular entry wound on his right temple (if one inspected the roof of his mouth, the same type of scar would be witnessed there), but the most striking change was his eyes. They were the same color they had always been, still kind, but older now, the eyes that could only belong to someone centuries old who had seen horrible things in his life. He looked young, but now his eyes were very off-putting to humans; they felt uncomfortable around him and avoided eye-contact at all costs.

Just as well, Matthew had lost his taste for human friends, preferring to avoid social interaction as much as possible. A smile was rare and could only be elicited by something seriously funny… What seriously funny was, none of the nations that cared could figure out, so it would suffice to say they hadn't seen him smile.

Not feeling the urge to shave (as usual), Matthew walked over to the toilet and had his usual morning piss, yawning as he did. He gave himself a few shakes before putting it away into his boxers and leaving the room. Clothes were remembered to be put on this morning before going downstairs, but the last step on the case wasn't. He tripped, rolled his ankle and face-planted on the ground-floor entry hall. With a defeated sigh he reached out to pick up his glasses and slip them back on as he sat upright to wait for his joint to stop hurting. Hm… Joint… Steadily, he picked himself up from the floor and walked into his kitchen, passing up the various things left out on the counter and picking up a small pine box. His next motive was to open the box and roll himself a joint. A quick whiff of sulfur as a match was lit and then the room was filled with the aroma of burning weed.

Taking his first hit of the day, he wondered at the date, finding his phone (and taking another hit) he looked at the date.

January eighteenth…

At that he took a massive drag on the bit of rolled paper and weed, today was definitely destined for horribleness. A bong was definitely the better way to go here. The phone was stuck into his pocket thereafter. He shuffled to his living room the next second and extricated his best bong from the array he had out, quickly preparing it for use while he continued smoking. Vaguely, from the corner of his eye and completely unnoticeable to someone who didn't already know it was there, a glimmer of metal shone from the dusty edge of the room.

To anyone that _had_ seen it though, they would know that it was a circlet of tungsten that fit Matthew's wedding finger perfectly. They would also know that on the second floor, the door two to the right of Matthew's bedroom contained mountains of foreign possessions. Anyone that tried to see these though would find the door locked, not just locked, but the doorknob broken as well as the key to it snapped off in the lock.

The glint drew Matthew's eye for a moment, but it was a very short-lived moment as he finished preparing his bong for use at the same time as his joint. The phone in his pocket chose that exact second to vibrate and he sighed.

"_Bonjour_?" He said tiredly into the receiver.

"Hey Matt."

"Yo, Rick." From that one response there was silence on the other end of the line and then the slight clicking of a nervous tongue.

"It's not even noon man."

"And? Who are you to say I shouldn't medicate myself as needed?" Sensing some sort of snide remark from Frederick coming he swiftly elaborated "You may be _a_ doctor, but you aren't mine."

On the other end of the line, the strawberry-blonde human tapped his fingers on his desk, exasperated. It was nearly painful to bite back telling Matthew he knew he didn't have a doctor. It was the most frustrating thing knowing more than your friend thought you did. At this point Matthew still wasn't even aware that Frederick knew just how different he was. Doctor Frederick Stoughton had been a human privy to the inner workings of the Canadian government for the bulk of his life. Privy to it and loving it, especially his blonde nation.

Slightly he found himself wishing that Russia had been able to successfully separate Canada from Prussia, but it all worked out in the end. Not quite how Frederick had hoped it would in all honesty, this alternative just left Matthew broken and pretty much a useless lout that smoked weed and played videogames on days he didn't have meetings. This of course only further caused him to hate the albino. He had just recently gained use of his hand again but gaining back the use of Matthew was a very long process in coming.

"I can still advise you as a friend, eh."

"Well, don't." There was a bubbling noise on the other end of the phone that Fredrick knew all too well.

"I'll leave you be." There was no "goodbye" or "okay", the line just went dead and the human found himself wishing he could beat the snot out of Prussia. It was his fault that his nation was so depressed, he also knew, however, that a human going up against a full-fledged nation was futile. Hell, a human going up against a dead nation like the man Prussia used to be was foolhardy at best. They were invulnerable to just about everything, but other nations. Even to themselves actually.

Fredrick still remembered with striking clarity the blood spattered over the walls and on the floor of his friend's living room. The blood-smeared gun and most chillingly, the blonde's agonized screams for death to accommodate him.

He had always known (from only stories before) that Matthew Williams was a chronically depressed man. Hearing about him trying to kill himself and seeing it were, as with anything so gruesome, two completely different things. What struck him the hardest about the whole situation was that no one had ever tried to make him better. Few had ever even recognized it as a problem, usually saying "he can't kill himself anyway, what's the big deal?", it was astounding. Fredrick supposed that only a minute amount of people that knew him truly saw Canada as a person. He suspected at that same time that not even Canada's boss cared about him, he cared more about the less concrete parts about the nation and not the unloved and dying heart it was attached to. To be more than honest, Fredrick wasn't sure if he himself loved Matthew so much because he pitied him or if it was because of better reasons.

Either way though, he still cared about him and it hurt him deeply to see him in so much pain. There was that feeling again of needing to baseball-bat Prussia in his head. And again the notion that doing so would definitively spell his last days on the planet. Taking a deep breath, he groaned and checked the clock on his wall, why not pay his dear, ol' nation a visit?

()()()

"_Yes, yes, thanks, you could not have been more irritating_." Gilbert said into his cell phone, trying to give less than subtle hints to Francis that he didn't want to be talking to him right now. Well-wishes on his birthday were all well and good, but needless to say, he wasn't in the mood for them. No, what he was in the mood for was some kick-ass hockey or maybe rugby, either would get _some_ of his frustrations out. He paused in his thoughts for a second and gasped into the phone.

"_Quoi_?" Francis inquired at the surprised noise.

"_I just realized that there is something that masturbating _can't_ fix_!" They both chuckled for a few moments, but they both understood the significance behind the joke and so it died quickly.

"_Gilbert, can I ask you something_?" Francis quickly moved on, but this was probably something that would make the Prussian angry to address.

"_If it's pertaining to… My missing… Shadow. Then, no_." If Gilbert could avoid the touchy-feely, heart-to-heart crap with his best European friend forever he would be happy. Ludwig had inquired after him for weeks and weeks before he figured out that Gilbert was in no mood to talk about it and wasn't ever going to be. What perplexed Gilbert's neighbors the most though was his total lack of his usual destructive behaviors when he was upset. Some took this as he didn't care and thus, callousness. Others, the more correct ones, saw this as he was hiding something from them. The rest of them (the closest to him), Ludwig, Francis and Kiku the only ones in this category, assumed him so torn to pieces he didn't know how to process it.

"_If by 'shadow' you mean my son, then sorry I even wanted to ask._"

"_Not forgiven_."

"_Come on. I know you're in pain and this whole reinstated thing must be difficult for you to handle at the same time, but you shouldn't be locking yourself away in your home_! _Do you know how many times we've seen each other in the past nine months_?"

"_Hmm, five_?" Gilbert counted how many world meetings there had been.

"_Yes, and that is just… That's sad. You should never deal with pain alone, especially when you have so many people willing to help you_!"

"_**I don't need a lecture Francis**_!" The albino roared into the phone, "_And do not assume to know that I am in __**pain**_! _You cannot begin to understand the fucking __**agony**__ I have had to deal with for nine __**fucking months**_!" Gilbert barely was able to stop himself from vomiting dangerous information at the Frenchman and decided to break something instead. This something happened to be the lamp that usually sat on the low table next to his bed. The ceramic shattered at a mere touch and it left him feeling so grossly unfulfilled and just _mad_ that it did nothing to alleviate the bubbling need to destroy.

"_At least I got you to talk about it_." Francis said cheekily, to which Gilbert responded by ending the call and ripping the battery out of his phone before throwing to the other side of the small room. Clutching at his hair (head in his hands) Gilbert released a long, guttural snarl of frustration and anguish. It was the first outburst of any true emotion he had had in all this time and now that the dam had broken he couldn't stop himself. He sobbed shamelessly into his hands, his brain not even registering the door creaking open ever so slightly for Catherine to witness this happening.

"Gilbert?" She timidly squeaked, never having seen (or heard him) like this. The man didn't respond and she stepped towards him. A tentative hand was laid on his shoulder and his hands came up, dragging her by her dress against him. She nearly screamed in surprise, expecting him to hit her. How confused (but grateful) she was when his face buried in the fabric of her dress he hissed to her stomach.

"I dit dis _ahll_ for you."

"I know." Catherine responded, thinking he was speaking to her. And they sat like that for the better part of two hours.

()()()

Knock, knock, knock! … _Knock_, _knock_, _knock_! … … _**Knock**_, _**knock**_,_** knock**_! Matthew raised his head through the haze in the room, his eyes narrowing at the annoying sound of someone come to disturb his depressed moping. Today was his day of angst, damn it! Everyday was his day of angst recently… Either way, how dare they interrupt him?

When the loud knocking turned into a loud banging and an exclamation of "I know you're home!", he forced himself to stand and walked into the hallway to the door. He pulled said door open, a whoosh of cold, fresh air and bright sun greeting him as it hadn't seen him in two weeks.

Frederick, on the other hand, got to say hello to the munchies as some smoke wafted out of the house onto him. He was pretty sure if he touched Matthew he would get contact high.

"Hey man." The blonde greeted his last human friend, looking him up and down, "Did you say earlier you were going to visit?"

"Yes?"

"Liar. Why are you here?" Even when enormously stoned, this man had his wits about him. Frederick supposed it came from being on the grass for the last hundred or so years. Your resistance to the stuff skyrockets!

"Look, I'm worried about you." Frederick decided to just say it. There was no use in beating around the bush with Matthew. He would either get him off topic or he would get angry about him not addressing his issues directly.

"You shouldn't."

"And why not? You're smoking yourself into your grave."

"It's not like cancer runs in my family or nothing." Not caring any longer (and loathing the sunlight) Matthew wandered away from the door, Rick following him inside. The red head followed the more blonde red-head, remembering to close the front door behind him.

"It's not about if you're predisposed to cancer, Matthew, you're wasting away in here." Matthew heard his voice as well as something rattling so he looked over his shoulder to see Frederick carrying a medical bag.

"So, you're here to give me a check-up?"

"Yes, it's amazing that you still appear to be in great shape after just sitting around and smoking for months on end." Frederick knew that the healthy size of Matthew's muscles had more to do with how well the actual nation and the army of it was doing rather than if he had been doing anything resembling a work out. The missing body fat though, no that was Matthew's fault.

"I'm naturally like this." The nation shrugged and sat down on his couch, seeing his explanation as more than sufficient.

"Please, Matthew, humor me?" By the mumbling, it seemed that he was less than willing to oblige. Frederick almost turned around to make to leave, but some spark of Matthew's much-loved, prior disposition entered his eyes.

"If it will calm you down." Matthew pushed himself up from the bed and padded past his hopeful friend to the kitchen. "Do you want some water or something to snack on?" He asked Frederick, grinding out his joint in an ashtray.

"Some water would be nice. And do you have any sesame sticks?"

"I gave you the munchie's, eh?"

"Yeah." Frederick chuckled mildly where Matthew remained straight-faced as expected. The less than gracious host gave Frederick a glass of water and a bag of chips.

"Sorry, I haven't been to the store in a while."

"Well, that's something we can do after your check-up then." Rick suggested, getting a venomous look from Matt as he sat himself on his kitchen table. "Or not…" He watched Matt remove his shirt, unbuttoning it halfway before deciding "screw it" and pulling it the rest of the way over his head. "I could go for you if you make a list of what you want."

"Thank you, but no. I'll be fine." Rick set the bag down on the table and removed his stethoscope, putting it in his ears.

"So you say, what was the last food you ate that didn't have weed in it?" Matthew didn't answer and Frederick pressed the stethoscope to his back to listen to him breathe. A couple deep breaths and Rick moved on to listening to Matt's heart calmly beat. Next was his blood pressure, which was low as to be expected. Matthew's eyes sluggishly constricted from their dilated state when a small flashlight was applied to them, the sunlight earlier must've been absolutely terrible for him. The muscle had atrophied slightly from his living in the dark more than the light. "I suggest you turn your lights on more often. Or at least open some windows." Matthew shrugged in a disinterested way and Rick had half a mind to smack him. Just because your brutish, vulgar, narcissistic boyfriend left you didn't mean you had the go ahead to stop caring about everything.

Frederick went on to test Matthew's reflexes and found literally nothing wrong with him beyond his slow reaction to light.

"You have no right to be this healthy Matthew."

"I'm glad to see you're doing well too." As Matthew contemplated jumping off the table, he felt a rubber tourniquet be tied around his elbow and Frederick frantically start searching for a vein. "Hey!" He tried to wrest control of his arm back with no results, Frederick refusing to let go even after Matthew started attempting to shove him away.

"Hold still!" Rick yelled, jabbing a needle into the vein he found, once this had been done, Matthew wheeled back a fist, the human barely dodging. As Matthew continued to struggle and try to take the needle out, Frederick realized he was going to have to use more drastic measures. Making sure not to jostle the needle any, he jumped up onto the table and sat astride Matthew, holding his arms in place. "Stop it." He ordered firmly.

"Why are you even taking a blood sample?" Matthew loudly demanded, deciding at this point he would have to use his actual strength if Rick didn't get off.

"I just want to run a few tests."

"Why? I'm fine! You just said I was healthy!"

"I just want to be sure." Rick was doing very well to keep his cool, but he realized if Matthew really wanted to fight, he had no chance.

"You have two seconds to get off of me before you're going to be in a world of hurt." The human's eyes flicked down to the vacuutainer that was mostly full with blood. Matthew would destroy it if given the chance. So, his eyes went back to Matthew as he slowly eased himself off, suddenly taking both the needle and vacuutainer off his arm. By the time Matthew had realized what just happened, Rick had already stashed everything in a biohazard bag and stuffed it back in his medical bag.

"Give it back Rick."

"Why? You don't need it." The doctor motioned to his friend's clearly fine body, really wishing he could have put a band-aid over Matthew's arm because it was still bleeding. Worse still, it was going to bruise.

"Because it's thievery."

"I just want to see if you really are okay, is that wrong?"

"No, but you didn't _ask_ for my blood. You asked for a physical."

"I knew you would say no."

"So you did it anyway?"

"Is there something you don't want to tell me, Matthew?" A long silence settled between them and Matthew was quickly rummaging around in his head for some way to justify his behavior. "If there is, you can tell me. You know I won't think any less of you." Rick pleaded.

"I have AIDS. There, I said it." Matthew lied, hoping it would also explain why he could never have a real relationship with Rick, no matter how much the human might have wanted one. In retrospect, he probably should have picked something less severe, because now Rick was liable to worry about him constantly. No nation had ever really looked to see if their blood work was truly different from humans, but if it was, he was not going to be the one that outed the world. Matthew knew that Germany, Italy and England had doctors that took care of them if he ever got hurt, but analysis of blood was still off limits. Results like that always got out sooner or later, no matter how hard you tried to hide them.

"Oh… I, uh…" Rick on the other end of this situation stared at him with a dumbfounded look. Obviously it was a last ditch effort for Matthew to stop him and not a very good one. "Do you at least want me to check for your leukocyte count?"

"No. I have a personal doctor for that." More lies, but then again, a nation's life to humans was a lie. They couldn't afford to let anyone in incase the government thought they would be a threat. If a nation didn't kill them in their own time, the government _made sure_ to get rid of the others that knew. Since Frederick was part of that though… Maybe he could convince Matthew to tell him someday. But that would be the day both of them would have to stop the pretenses.

"Well… Can I talk to him or her then? Doctor to doctor, just so I know you're okay?"

"Frederick, I'm _fine,_ you said it yourself."

"Matthew." He sternly stared the nation down, "If there is _anything_ out of the ordinary that you don't want anyone to know, I can destroy all record of it. You aren't even in the computers at any hospital around here. Okay? It's perfectly safe." Matthew released a breath and slumped back down on the table. What was the worst that could happen? Really? A bunch of humans would find out they have an extremely powerful being on their side? Sure they would get no peace if humans found out, but they hardly got peace now. "Please?"

"Go on. I don't care anymore." Matthew located the ashtray his last joint was in and relit it with a nearby lighter. A few puffs and Rick realized he wasn't going to go anywhere else with Matthew today. "Please leave. If you find anything different let me know." Another drag and the doctor nodded.

"Alright…"

"_Goodbye _Rick." The blonde rolled his eyes over to Rick when he didn't seem to be moving.

"Yeah, bye." Rick turned and left the kitchen to the front door, strolling right out it, stopping in his footsteps when he heard the deadbolt slide into place behind him.

No matter, he could be pissy if he wanted, Rick was eager to see just how different a nation really was from a human.

()()()

"Uhm… Gilbert?" Catherine's voice broke through the albino's blank and moderately peaceful mind. "Gilbert, really." Blinking, he shook his head out and looked to her. His eyes were still grainy and a bit red from his earlier episode.

"_Was_?" He asked, hoping whatever it was she had to say was actually useful.

"There's a kind of big man with blonde hair walking down your driveway…" She informed him and in a flash he was on his feet and leaving the bedroom. "Wait, who is he?" Gilbert rapidly wheeled around to face her once more, saying in his most commanding and clearest voice "**Stay hier**_._"

"I will, but who is he?" Catherine never really liked how Gilbert didn't want others to see her, maybe it was a possessive thing. If that was the case, it certainly was flattering, but with Gilbert she always felt like there was more to every situation.

"He's my bruder." Gilbert quickly explained, closing his bedroom door after him and going to greet his brother outside.

"_Westen_!" He jovially welcomed his somewhat stoic brother. "_Did something happen today_?" Gilbert's happy mood dropped right off his face when Ludwig didn't do much else other than say "_Hallo_."

"_I asked you a question._"

"_Happy birthday._" Ludwig handed Gilbert a bottle of his favorite champagne which he readily accepted.

"_Yes, yes, thanks, now what happened_?"

"_Italy is…_"

"_Oh God, here we go again_."

"_No, he was extremely… Peculiar today_."

"_Aaas if he hasn't been_?" Gilbert quirked a sarcastic eyebrow and shifted his weight to one leg, crossing his arms with the bottle of alcohol in hand.

"_Not like this. In fact… He has been like this for a good few months._"

"_I didn't hear about this, why_?"

"_I thought little of it, but looking back on all his past behavior, this is really… Not like him. Even in war he was docile and sweet._" The older brother's eyebrows then pulled down as he had a good feeling for where Ludwig was going.

"_Is he being violent_?"

"_Yes_… _How did you know_?"

"_Call it a hunch…_" Austria had been excessively violent after recovering those years ago, maybe it was finally getting to Italy. Nothing else would explain this.

"_He just suddenly yelled and punched me today. Stranger than that is that the punch actually hurt_!" Gilbert did remember hearing at some time today that the already shaky trade relations between his brother and Italy had soured even more. They had lifted the trade embargo after the mess with Russia, but now it seemed likely to be put back in place. And not on such light terms as it had been prior.

"_You said he has been like this for a while_?"

"_The yelling and sudden bursts of anger. This is the first time he has actually punched me before_." Ludwig knew it sounded like he was complaining more than explaining a problem to his brother, but he knew Gilbert would understand. Italy could never beat him in a hand-to-hand fight, but the fact that Italy was even willing to get into one was extremely worrisome. "_He's practically becoming Romano_."

"_Ew…_"

"_Yes, I feel the same about that._" Looking back to the porch, Gilbert motioned to his brother to follow him up to it and sit down. They both had adequate amounts of clothing on and could deal with the cold as there was no wind. Especially if Gilbert pulled over a small brazier to light a fire on. Hesitantly, Ludwig followed Gilbert to the porch, taking a seat in the rocking chair while Gilbert went inside to fetch some wood and two glasses.

When Gilbert returned, the fire went up easily, he smiling that at least he hadn't forgotten how to do it in his time of complacency. Pulling a chair from the other side of the porch over to his brother, they both huddled by the warm fire and looked up at the clear sky. It was just about sunset, the world was being painted wonderful shades of pinks, purples and oranges. Gilbert did the honor of popping the bottle and watching the champagne foam, both of them smiling. Once he poured the sweet liquid into the two glasses and handed one to Ludwig did the blonde say "_Happy eight-hundred… Whatever."_

"_Prost, my brother_"

"_Prost_." They clinked the glasses together, Gilbert chuckling.

"_How are you holding up_?"

"_We agreed not to speak of him._"

"_Oh… Right, I remember_." Ludwig awkwardly sipped at his drink, occupying himself by staring off into the darkening scenery of Gilbert's backyard.

"_Of course you do._" The bitter tone didn't escape Ludwig's notice and the German's blue eyes slid to him.

"_Of all the times to bring that up, you do it now_?"

"_I'm never going to forgive you_." Gilbert said, his tone detached and taking another sip of champagne.

"_I didn't expect you would._"

"_As you never should._"

"_Why bring it up now_?_ We've had dozens ,if not more times, that this topic would be more appropriate, why now when we're supposed to be celebrating_?"

"_Because we never did it before. Maybe this is something that can only be spoken of during inopportune times_."

"_How many times do I have to tell you that I'm sorry_?_ I didn't mean for it to happen_." For months, Ludwig had tried to apologize, Gilbert ignoring him every time. When the fifth time that Ludwig wanted to make amends came, Gilbert cut off most of their communication. Speaking as few words as necessary and leaving him alone just like he had with everyone else. Ludwig knew his isolation was special and pointed amid everyone else's experience.

"_Our people didn't mean to put your boss in office and start a war that killed sixty-million people just because they wanted their economy risen out of shit. But it happened._" Ludwig's eyes drifted down to contemplate his glass.

"_That's a little extreme isn't it_?"

"_Extreme, but no less true._" Gilbert snorted, "_And you knew better, I thought._" The older of the two finished his glass and corked the champagne bottle "_It was nice seeing you Ludwig, but I would prefer it if you would leave me for now_."

"_You're within my boarders._"

"_I'll be relieving you of my presence soon enough. Please leave_." Gilbert left the brazier burning and walked inside, locking the door behind him and pulling the blinds to.

"_You can't hide from me forever_." Ludwig told him loud enough for him to hear through the wood of the door.

"_You better believe I can_." Gilbert grumbled to himself as he listened for Ludwig's receding footsteps. Hearing the car engine start up and eventually travel away, he sighed, walking back to his room. Oh, his room, he pushed the door open to see Catherine laying in his bed, facing the wall. By her clothes she had already done her nightly routine and was trying to sleep. Just as well, it gave him time to examine the barrenness of his room. Once she came to live with him, he removed all the pictures from his wall, stuffed them in a box and hid them with his diaries in his second basement. The only thing still left of these was the framed one that usually sat next to his bed, but it was facing down towards the ground as of late. He dreamed of a day when he could set it upright again.

All of this of course took place about two weeks ago; on February first at approximately 12:47 AM, in the capital city of East Prussia, Gilbert woke up to potentially one of the scariest things he had witnessed in most of his years. An angry, pregnant woman screaming his name.

"_**Gilbert**_!" The man being called for shot up from his sleeping place on the floor of his room, his head whipping around for any source of danger. Finding none, he looked to Catherine. Needless to say, she looked less than stellar. She screamed at a particularly harsh contraction and grinned almost manically at him, "**Guess what**!" Catherine panted in the back of her throat.

"Ueh… Vhat?"

"**My water just broke**." Another yelp of pain and Gilbert knew what exactly it was he had to do. Jumping to his feet and quickly gathering her up in his arms, he couldn't help but think that this was going a bit fast. Wasn't the water breaking supposed to be a bit more calm than this? Just his luck, he supposed.

He quickly carried her down the hall of the house they lived in, the white duck (for the moment dubbed Milch [or Milk]) curiously waddling after them.

"_Stay here_." He ordered the duck, to which it just angrily quacked at him and realized he didn't really have time to be arguing with a duck of all things.

"_**You will stop talking to that damned duck right now before I castrate you on the spot**_!" Catherine screamed at the top of her lungs in very angry French. Under normal circumstances, Gilbert would not have been inclined to listen to her. But, if there was one thing he had learned from his time on the planet was that you did not mess with a woman in labor. They were the only people on the Earth that might actually have the ability to kill someone with words (or just a single hand).

He put her in the car and didn't even wait to put his seatbelt on to drive her to the hospital (thankfully _that_ at least was close by). It didn't take them long to reach the establishment and it took even less time to get Catherine into the delivery room. Gilbert preferred not to follow her in and this created a long and ear-piercing stream of curses from her. No man in that room envied him, but many also thought his choice justified, just taking it as he was squeamish.

After a lot of echoed screaming, two cups of strong coffee, some pacing and three hours a doctor came down the hall to Gilbert. She looked apologetic but said nothing to him at first, motioning for him to follow her.

"_Did something happen_?" Gilbert wheezed fearing the worst for his child. Alarm immediately shot across his face. "_What happened_?_ Is the baby alright_?" He frantically asked as the doctor lead him into the birthing room. His ears were met with the sound of an infant's cries and the drawn out beep of a flat-lining electrocardiogram. The beep he cared nothing for, his eyes went immediately to the baby in the arms of one of the nurses. And just like that, there it was, there _he_ was, a messy, crying bundle of life. Gilbert just shrugged off the doctor's trying to speak to him. She was probably trying to tell him that the baby's mother had died directly after birth. Gilbert figured it was heart-failure; not that he had known beforehand, but it would have made sense. The baby was the last thing keeping that body alive, she probably didn't even have time to register that her heart was going into arrest. Have sex with a nation and die, have sex with a nation twice, you're more than dead.

The nurses wrapped the crying child up in a soft, blue blanket, handing him to his father. For Gilbert, there were only three things in the universe that existed at that second. Himself, the baby and his other rightful parent half the world away.

From the edges of his hearing, Gilbert detected someone asking the child's name. Smiling, he said his son's almost comically long name "Gerhard Friedrich Beilschmidt."

Quite as if the wailing infant understood his name, his eyes slid open, wide ruby orbs taking in his first view of his blurry father.

Father… Holy shit… Gilbert's blood ran to ice in his veins. He was a father now… A _real _father… In his mind raced everything he knew he was going to be facing, facing alone and beyond that he thought about everything he could teach the crying baby boy. How was raising a child alone going to pan out? Before, with Germany, the boy had been found half-grown, able to speak and socialize with others (not that the possessive Prussia approved of that). Germany had been raised by not only his brother, but his own people. He was protected by his brother and his soldiers, Germany's father was many. This wonderful, most beautiful thing Gilbert had beheld since Matthew was dependant upon solely him. Prussia's greatest challenge was no war, it was this sudden thing baring down on his shoulders called fatherhood.

()()()()()

Notes:

Ich hasse dich...-I hate you. You are a fat whore but still pretty... Nonetheless, you are not pretty, really you are ugly to me

Bonjour-Hello

Quoi-What

THE RETURN OF ACCENTS! And just the return in general I guess. When was the last time I posted something, no? By the way, unanswered questions of the last one ALL of them are going to be answered in this fiction. People that wondered about the sickness changing Italy's preferences, yes, that has an explanation too. However, I suppose after an ending like Throwback had maybe it's fair for you to have decreased trust in me. Either way. Talk to y'allz later. I got work.


End file.
